Since he was in his 20s and living on his own, my son Todd has regularly returned to the
Columbus area for the Memorial Tournament.

The 1999 event proved especially memorable for our family.

At the time, Todd was a 27-year-old single Chicago resident.

He would call periodically to ask about which foods left in his refrigerator were still edible
or about an unusual sound that his car was making.

In time, though, our conversations started focusing more on his health.

Todd was experiencing stomach discomfort and pain.

I would tell him to see a doctor, and he’d inevitably report back with an explanation.

His job required him to travel, and, while on business in early 1999 in Atlanta, he ended up at
an emergency room with what he thought was food poisoning.

Doctors found nothing.

A few weeks later, while in Cleveland, he was again feeling pain in his stomach. Again, he
landed at an emergency room — for almost seven hours this time.

Doctors found nothing.

Back in Chicago, he was seeing two doctors. One finally suggested that he undergo a CT scan —
which he scheduled for June, the earliest appointment available.

Ahead of the scan, Todd flew home to Columbus for the Memorial Tournament, with plans to fly
back to Chicago the next Monday afternoon.

On that Friday, he was struggling to bend at the waist but felt good enough, he said, to walk
the course at Muirfield Village Golf Club, the site of the tournament.

By Saturday, he didn’t think he could sit down at the 12th hole as we usually did.Then, come
Sunday, he felt so bad that we watched the last day of the tournament at home on television.

Before our son had arrived at Port Columbus, the mother’s instinct in me had sensed that
something was amiss — so I had scheduled an appointment for Monday morning with our family doctor
in Delaware. I wanted to hear from him directly that nothing was wrong.

The appointment, though, proved gut-wrenching: An afternoon of tests exposed a mass the size of
a small football below his diaphragm and spots on his liver.

We were all devastated.

Subsequently, our son learned that he had testicular cancer. He was treated aggressively at the
Arthur G. James Cancer Hospital and, six months later, finally returned to Chicago.

The cancer was so advanced that, had a few more weeks passed, he probably wouldn’t have
survived.

Fourteen years later, Todd — still living in Chicago — plans to visit for the Memorial
Tournament, which will begin on Thursday.

For us, the annual event serves as a reminder of what might have been had he not made the trip
in 1999.

The week is one worth celebrating.

Jan Kisting, 66, of Powell will again watch the tournament with other family members from the
12th hole.